Until You Refuse to Correct It
by CrazyCat1138
Summary: It all started the night Ozpin broke into Roman Torchwick's apartment and asked him to spy on his boss.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: It all started the night Ozpin broke into Roman Torchwick's apartment and asked him to spy on his boss.

A/N: This starts immediately after the end of Volume 1, and will follow canon until something happens that forces it to diverge, which will likely be somewhere halfway through Volume 3. I started writing this around the start of Volume 3, so it'll follow fairly closely until that point and I'll do my best to incorporate events after that point, but this will almost certainly turn into an AU eventually. If something happens that I think I can add to whatever parts of this I've already posted, I may go back and edit, but probably not. So yeah, fair warning.

Another fair warning: like the series, this will get dark. While there will be humor too (I mean, it's Torchwick, and in my mind Ozpin is a massive troll), this is definitely still a world where shitty stuff happens.

I have up until Vol 2 Ep 3 written, and Vol 2 Ep 11ish planned out. The first few updates will be fairly regular, since I've got a buffer of around 4 chapters, but if school picks up and I run out of buffer, updates will be sporadic and happen when I've polished each chapter to my satisfaction.

This was inspired in part by theories I saw floating around somewhere on the internet (probably tumblr) and Unforseen Circumstances by Siena Goodwitch, although it goes in a very different direction than that.

Rating: M because Roman swears a lot and is generally not a nice person. And the imminent violence.

Disclaimer: Don't own, not making any profit.

* * *

"An error doesn't become a mistake until you refuse to correct it." - Orlando A. Battista

* * *

Hours after Vol. 1 Ch. 16, Black and White (but not many):

Several hours after midnight, I _finally_ opened the door to my apartment. One of my many apartments, of course - I'm not stupid enough to have only one home base. This was one of the ones Cinder didn't know about, because if I saw her or her lackeys again before I'd had at least ten hours of sleep, a shower, and a gallon of coffee, I might 'accidentally' blow something up. I can only handle so much weird-ass shit at once, and the girl with the swords had filled my quota for the rest of the month. Maybe the rest of the year.

I tossed my hat at the hat rack, hoped it landed there and not the floor but couldn't be bothered to check, flipped on the lights, and - shit shit shit, mysterious cloaked figure in front of my bay window, damn it, _why now?_ No one knew about this apartment, _no one_.

"Hello, Roman," the figure said. Male, vaguely familiar, figure it out later. Or maybe not, my cane was already aimed at him.

"What the hell are you doing here? Show me your face before I blast it off." I attempted to put a dangerous edge on my voice but it probably came out more tired than anything. Whatever, I could work with that. Play it like I was tired of this shit and not actually, you know, about to fall asleep on my feet any second.

Mystery Man chuckled and flipped back his hood. "Really, Roman, it hasn't been that long, has it?" I moved a couple steps closer and hit the lights near the window. White hair, glasses - what the actual fuck was Ozpin doing in my apartment?

I didn't lower my cane. "For some of us it has. Why are - actually, no, I don't even care why, _how_ are you here?"

Ozpin took a couple steps towards me and I took a couple steps back. Kept myself out of his range (hopefully) and him in my sights (for all the good it would do, I mean, have you _seen_ his cane?).

He frowned at me. "You can lower your weapon, I'm not here to harm you, or arrest you."

I laughed, "Oh really? A huntsman going after a criminal for reasons _other_ than apprehending him? Sounds kinky."

He didn't even react to my (admittedly pretty weak, it was three in the morning, okay?) joke. "If I wanted to apprehend you, you'd already be in a cell. I'm just here to talk."

He had a point there. One on one, I had no chance against him. I lowered my cane and huffed out a sigh. "Okay, I'll listen. _After_ I get a drink."

I walked over to the cabinet where I keep the good stuff and leaned my cane against the wall. Not like it would do me any good. I briefly considered pouring myself a reasonable amount of alcohol, but decided things had gone way past reasonable the moment the Headmaster of Beacon showed up in the apartment of Vale's Most Wanted. I filled the glass to the brim. When I turned around again Ozpin had seated himself in one of the armchairs in my living room, so I took the one opposite him.

I took a sip and put on an expression of contentment. When you have no clue what you're doing, act like you're bored as hell.

"Alright, talk."

"I want you to spy on your employer for me."

I nearly spit my drink. " _What?_ Are you insane? Wait, don't answer that. _Why?_ What makes you think this is in _any_ way a good idea?"

"Your... unique position gives you the ability to gain information that would be very valuable to me."

I laughed. "'Unique position?' What's that supposed to mean?"

"You are in the highest levels of this organization, and yet it appears that you don't entirely believe in their goals. You have both opportunity and motive."

"What makes you think that?" Try to play it cool, don't show how freaked out you are by the fact that he knows things about you that he really, _really_ shouldn't.

Ozpin just smiled enigmatically. "I have my sources."

Damn him. "Assuming any of that is true, why would I even consider doing this?"

He answered immediately, "Because they don't trust you. They're keeping things from you, and you want to know what and why. Deep down, you're wondering if they're not telling you because it's something so terrible they know you would turn on them."

I'd been contemplating my glass when he started, wondering how it had suddenly become empty, but at that my eyes snapped up and met his. He was leaning forward, elbows on knees, looking at me intently. Making a point. I looked away first, then got up to refill my glass. Maybe not so much this time, I almost stumbled on the edge of the carpet and the room did a tilty thing I'm pretty sure rooms can't actually do.

"The answer is no." So much easier to talk to him when my back was turned and I couldn't see him giving me that stare, like he could see exactly what was going on in my head.

"Very well. Just know that the offer remains open, should you change your mind. And if you say yes, you will also be free to stop at any time. You are the one in charge of this arrangement." Suddenly his voice was by my ear and I just barely suppressed the reflex to jump. Instead I found myself meeting his gaze again. "And, if I may suggest, sleep would be better for you than more alcohol, at this point." He slowly removed the bottle of scotch from my hand and moved it to the far corner of the tabletop, out of my reach, never breaking eye contact. "I can show myself out."

As he turned to leave, I regained sufficient control of myself to give him the best death glare I could muster. "Yes, please do that and kindly _never come back!_ "

Once the door closed and locked I let myself slump forward. "What the actual fuck." I was not awake or drunk enough to deal with this. I raised my glass to take another drink before realizing I never got around to pouring any more.

Bullshit, that I was in charge of this situation.

* * *

Shortly afterwards:

I pulled my hood up before I left the building. No need to take any unnecessary chances of being seen. When I'd gotten a couple blocks away, my scroll pinged with an incoming call. The number was blocked, but I knew who it was.

"Hello," I said.

A slightly slurred drawl answered me. "Well, how'd it go?"

"As expected. He declined the offer."

"Told ya so."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Yes, you did. I did get some useful information, though. He inadvertently confirmed what you suspected; he isn't truly the person in charge."

"Huh, now that's interesting. Nice job, Oz, I'll make a spy out of you yet."

"Qrow, I -"

"Yeah, yeah, you deal with teenagers every day, you have to be a master spy to figure out if they mean what they say and say what they mean half the time."

"Mm, that too, but I also dropped that bug of James's in his coat pocket."

There was a pause on the other end. "I take it all back, there's nothing more you can learn from me. Go forth and... do whatever it is you do."

I smiled. "I'll talk to you later, Qrow."

"Later, Ozzy."


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning... afternoon... whenever:

The first thing I did, after ascertaining that last night was real and not an unsettlingly realistic dream (and taking that shower and drinking that gallon of coffee), was sweep my apartment for bugs and other annoyances. Dust knew how long the old man had been waiting for me, how much time he'd had to get up to all sorts of mischief with my stuff.

And, to no one's surprise, I found all sorts of fun toys. Wiretap in my landline (not like I used the thing, but nice try), microphone hidden in my plants (really, so old school), miniature camera on top of my bookcase (flipped it off before disabling it, for shits and giggles), another microphone under one of my kitchen chairs (clever, but still old school), and, the apparent coup de grace, a combo microphone and tracker in my coat pocket. I outright laughed at that one and how unsubtle - admittedly, only in hindsight - Ozpin had been in getting close enough to plant it.

"Seriously, old man? You thought I'd fall for that? There's a reason I'm the best thief in Vale, and it's that I'm extremely skilled at _not being followed_." I gave one last derisive snort before disabling that one, too.

A few hours later I finally noticed the note taped to the inside of my door. The only thing written on it was a scroll number. I was tempted to turn one of the bugs back on again, just so I could tell Ozpin to go fuck himself one last time, but decided that was too childish even for me.

I settled for crumpling it up and tossing it onto the pile of mail that was collecting on my kitchen table. With all the other junk, where it belonged.

* * *

Approximately the same time:

I wasn't entirely surprised when Roman found all the bugs I planted around his apartment. I had intended for them to be distractions for the primary bug in his coat, but then he found that one as well.

That did surprise me. James had said it was virtually undetectable. Only the most advanced scans could pick it up, unless you already knew it was there and what frequency it broadcasted on.

Roman hadn't left the building, probably hadn't even left his apartment, and yet he still found it. I'd searched the entire suite, on the off chance he'd left something incriminating sitting out (he hadn't), and I knew he didn't have the technology to have found it.

Unless he'd been clever enough to see through my little gambit, he shouldn't have known it was there.

I'd have to ask James how easy it really was to detect that particular bug.

I should also ask Qrow for pointers about planting bugs on people. Even though he'd never let me hear the end of it.


	3. Chapter 3

Hi all! Just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's followed/favorited this already. Every time I see that someone new likes it it makes my day. :)

* * *

One week later:

I opened the door to my apartment and flicked on the lights - the same apartment as last week because, while I tried not to favor any of my various hidey-holes too much, I was pretty sure Cinder had tracked me to one, another was still a mess from the aftermath of a minor explosion (not my fault this time), and the others were all on the other side of town and no way was I going to go all the way over there this late at night. In a strange reenactment of last week, I vaguely registered _someone_ else in my apartment and had my cane up and aiming at their head before the more reasonable part of my brain took over and realized it was Ozpin. Again.

Sitting in my armchair. Again.

"Oh for - ugh." I lowered my cane and quickly banished all tiredness from my face. Can't appear weak in front of the enemy or… whatever the hell he was.

"Hello, Roman." The asshat was smiling at me. I strode into the room with an air of disdain.

"If you keep doing this, old man, I'll probably die of a heart attack before you do."

He snorted. "You probably couldn't find two people less likely to die of heart attacks if you tried."

"Hm... you're not wrong." As I went to sit down in the chair opposite him (again...), I noticed he had a glass of what appeared to be my favorite scotch on the table next to him.

I sighed. "I _knew_ I shouldn't have let you see where I keep my alcohol." For the sake of fairness, I went over to my liquor cabinet and poured myself a glass. It _definitely_ wasn't because I couldn't deal with this without a drink. Not. At. All.

He shrugged. "If you got in at more reasonable hours, I wouldn't have time to sit around getting bored."

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes was difficult. I failed. "If I got in at more 'reasonable hours,' you wouldn't be here trying to recruit me. That is why you're here, right? You didn't just show up because you couldn't find a decent drink anywhere else?"

He smiled again. "I will admit, the possibility of getting a good drink was part of it. But I'm not here to recruit you."

He left that hanging, giving me no option but to bite. "Why _are_ you here, then?"

"I wanted to be sure you didn't get the wrong impression from my offer. I'm not asking you to join our side, Roman. I'm not 'recruiting' you. You would remain a free agent for as long as you wanted the deal to last. In exchange for information, you would be well paid, and given protection and relocation if you were discovered. That's all I'm asking."

"What." I let what he'd just said bounce around my sleep deprived brain for a few seconds. "Nope, still don't see it, did you just say you're 'not asking me to join your side?' Because spying for you sure _sounds_ like joining your side."

"Yes, and I meant it. You'd be under no obligation to me beyond giving me whatever information you deemed worthy to pass along."

I sat back down, thought about that for a second, and then had a good laugh about it. "So, I could give you the most rancid bullshit I could think of, and you wouldn't care?"

"No, I wouldn't. I also wouldn't pay you for it; I do have other sources I can use to verify whatever you give me."

"Nice to know you're not as idealistic as you make yourself out to be. The answer's still no." I downed the rest of my whiskey and moved to stand, but Ozpin held up a hand, clearly asking me to wait. I thoroughly ignored him and went to pour myself another glass with every intention of telling him to piss off, but he beat me to the punch.

"If you're worried about how many people on 'my side' will know about you, the answer is two. Myself and one other person I trust completely."

Well, shit. That had been one of the many things worrying me about this whole situation. Cinder had to have spies or other agents working in Beacon, Atlas, Mistral, and Dust knew where else. She'd be an idiot not to, and I was well aware she was no idiot. If one of them even heard a rumor about me ratting on her, she'd fry me extra-crispy without a second thought.

Actually, some days I thought she might fry me just for the hell of it. For all that I acted like we were partners in crime, I had no illusions about my real status with her.

What Ozpin just said... well, now I might actually consider it. If only to fuck with the witch a little. I couldn't give him anything too major, because that would run the risk of alerting her. But little tidbits, only enough to put a wrench in some of her smaller plans, just to piss her... oh. On second thought, dealing with a pissed off Cinder is never worth it. No matter how hilarious her face is when she's angry.

I refilled my glass and turned to face him. "Still no. You can put your glass in the sink on the way out."

He nodded, just once, like it was the answer he'd been expecting, and stood. "Very well. Thank you for the drink."

I stood, leaning against my liquor cabinet, and glared in his general direction until the door closed.

Maybe I should just sell this apartment so Ozpin couldn't harass me and steal my liquor.

On second thought, the old man could almost certainly just find me again wherever I moved, and then I'd have forged all that paperwork for nothing.

I should probably just hide the liquor.

* * *

The next day:

I hadn't exactly expected Roman to say yes, but I had hoped. I'd tried to make the deal as favorable towards him as I could, but apparently it just wasn't enough. Roman's first priority was always to get himself to safety, so I'd given him numerous ways out. He seemed to prefer working alone, so I gave him free reign and minimal supervision.

But it would seem that I either thoroughly misjudged how much he feared his employer or, worse, his loyalties.

From what little Qrow had been able to tell me about the higher levels of the White Fang, Roman's employer sounded like a fairly terrifying woman. Qrow was only a "mid-level Dust-pushing thug," though (his words, not mine), and hadn't yet seen any of the leadership other than Roman and Adam Taurus. Qrow hadn't even heard someone say her name. It was entirely possible she was worse than Qrow knew. Which was frankly a frightening thought on its own.

If Roman was truly loyal to her though... but no, if he was loyal to her, he would have told her about me and there would have been a small army waiting for me the second time I broke into his apartment. That I was back in my office safely sipping my tea was proof he had his doubts.

Unless he simply hadn't thought of it yet...

I sighed and pulled out my scroll. Second-guessing myself would get me nowhere. Checking the new set of bugs I'd left hidden around Roman's apartment might.

To my great surprise, they were all still broadcasting. One of the microphones was even picking up something at a decent volume. I turned the audio on.

And was treated to an earful of truly awful, obnoxious music at full volume. I quickly hit mute again.

Why was I expecting anything else?


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: Hey, everyone. Sorry about the slow update. Midterms... were a thing that happened. I have a decent amount written, but this is the last complete chapter in my buffer, so updates are going to be more sporadic from here on out.

Another warning, regarding how I'm writing Roman, for this chapter and upcoming ones: He's a bad guy, and not a particularly nice person, and I'm doing my best to portray that faithfully. Much as I may want to, I'm not going to gloss over his bad character traits or dubious moral values. Therefore, he's going to be a racist a**hole to the faunus, both in general and specific individuals, from time to time. Not to a greater degree than he is in the series itself, but it's going to be there.

* * *

One week later: Vol 2 Ch 1 "Best Day Ever" happens.

I get _no_ respect around here. I steal (almost) literally every speck of Dust in Vale, and what do I get for thanks? _Why wasn't this job done sooner?_ and _You'll know when it's time._ Ugh. Freaking fire witch. And that little shit Emerald stole my lighter. Hate her.

At least Mercury is funny. Sometimes.

Nah, I hate him, too.

And now I have to get the animals to move everything to some Dust-forsaken place at some unspecified coordinates? Oh, yes, that's going to go _wonderfully_. If I had anyone to make bets with, I would start a pool for the number of explosions they cause before they're done. And put my money on ten or more.

I was halfway into my apartment before I realized the lights were already on and Ozpin was sitting in his usual armchair (Dust, how did this become my life?), sipping at a steaming mug and reading something from my book collection.

"For fuck's sake, don't you have papers to grade or... first-years to terrify or something?"

He chuckled. "One of the perks of being headmaster is delegating those kinds of things."

I rolled my eyes and turned towards my liquor cabinet. On top of which was a... pot of tea? "Ozpin, when did I acquire a teapot?"

"It seemed fitting that, since you so graciously provided drinks last time, I should provide them this time. I only brewed it half an hour ago, it should still be hot."

Seriously, how did this become my life?

No, really, I want to know.

Ugh.

Fuck it.

I poured myself a cup of tea, (liberally spiked with some cheap alcohol, which was all that was left in my liquor cabinet) and sat down in my usual chair.

This was apparently a thing now. Might as well make the most of it.

* * *

Immediately following:

Roman appeared as surprised as I was that he didn't simply walk out. I'd half expected him to turn around and leave the second he saw me. Judging by his continued refusals and Qrow's reports of his increasingly bad temper towards members of the White Fang, Roman didn't respond to pressure well. If put on the spot he was likely to run, and if he couldn't run he would lash out and do exactly the opposite of what he was being pressured to do.

I knew I was making a very large gamble, showing up in his home a third time. But I had a feeling that he wouldn't object to my presence, if I made it clear that I wasn't here as the Headmaster of Beacon, but rather as... a friend? An acquaintance? I had no idea what level of familiarity Roman would accept, or if this was even the correct approach to take, but I thought he would accept (or, at least, not immediately reject) a new relationship that wasn't entirely antagonistic. There seemed to be very few of those in his life.

To make matters even more problematic, I was working entirely from Qrow's impressions of him. Qrow and I tended to see... different things in people. Where Qrow might see someone as thick-headed and ambitious, I was more likely to think of them as strong-willed and able to turn their drive towards a goal which is beneficial to all. Needless to say, Qrow - and Glynda - often call me an incorrigible optimist for seeing the best in people, even when I may not be entirely justified in doing so. I always ask their advice on these things for that very reason.

Qrow had told me Roman was quick-tempered, vain, bitingly sarcastic, a compulsive liar, vindictive, misanthropic, and exceptionally prejudiced against faunus; however, he was also extremely intelligent, good at improvisation, and a skilled tactician. He had the talents to be an impressive spy. I could handle the bad if it meant getting the good part of him working for us.

I just wasn't sure how.

"So," Roman began, "whatcha reading?"

Well, that was a better start than I had dared hope for. "I noticed you had a copy of _Olive Twist_ ; I've been meaning to read it for quite a while and now seemed as good a time as any to start."

"Hmph. Should have known you're a sucker for idealistic rubbish like that."

Maybe not such a good start… "What do you mean by 'idealistic rubbish?'"

"Oh, you know, the so-called 'bad guys' will always get what's coming to them and the alleged 'good guys' will be rewarded for their steadfast faith and blah blah _blah_. We both know life doesn't work that way."

"I like to hope that it generally does."

"Pft, please. Bad people will always take what they want, and if they're any good at it they'll never get caught. Good people will always talk about how they're going to make the world a better place and how everyone is really a nice person somewhere deep down, but they're just deluding themselves and everyone stupid enough to believe them. This is really good, what kind of tea is this?"

The abrupt change in subject threw me for a second as Roman got up to refill his mug (without the addition of alcohol this time, I noted). I spared a moment wondering if that was a deliberate act on his part or if he really was impressed with the tea.

"I'm not sure what its full name is. One of my friends at Mistral sends some to me every year for the Solstice, and she just calls it 'that black tea you loved so much when you last visited.' I think it's some variation on assam."

"Mm, ask her sometime and then tell me." He froze for an instant, most likely chastising himself for the unspoken assumption behind his words – that I would be coming back – but moreover for implying that he could _want_ me to come back. He recovered quickly, though, and returned to his chair.

I smiled, and pretended I hadn't noticed. "I'll try to remember."

We sat in silence, sipping our tea, for a while after that. Roman was watching me pretend to read the book, rather obviously looking away whenever I looked up, and I let him. The entire point of this was to encourage him to be comfortable around me. After about five minutes of this he broke the silence.

"Okay, we both know you're not here to drink tea and debate shitty literature, not to mention you've been staring at the same page since I walked in. Why _are_ you here?"

There was no way I could tell him the real reason without scaring him off, but I also couldn't resist playing with him a little bit, especially with a setup like that. "You are half correct, I didn't intend to discuss literature." I went back to reading.

Roman's eyebrow shot upwards. "Seriously, that's all you're going to give me? You don't want to talk, fine, we won't talk!" He stormed over to the bookcase, yanked a random book off the shelf, and flopped back down into his chair to read it.

"Roman..." I began, and paused to consider how to continue. He clearly still considered me a threat. If this was going to be productive at all, I needed to end that now. "I meant it when I said you were the one in control. If there's something – _anything_ – that you would like to talk about, I would be glad to do so."

He gave me a speculative look. "So… what's the code to Beacon tower?"

"Anything but Beacon's security," I said with a smile.

Roman rolled his eyes. "Don't get a person's hopes up like that."

We passed the rest of the evening with our tea and respective books. I left when the tea ran out, but didn't take the teapot with me. Roman should have a little warning that I would be back, and I should probably back off a little bit. He seemed to need a bit more time to adjust to the concept.


End file.
